hormonal na emotera!
I am a walking emotional havoc of late. Thanks to Friendster for giving me this space to air out my angst he he. I really am a happy person, but recent events are causing an upheaval in my otherwise happy existence. First, there are the kindred who can’t talk of anything else but the need to be married (happily or whatever!) at this stage of my life which, by the way, at 26 going 27, is still far from being the spinster-y picture they conjure. They really kept insisting, with all the vehemence they can muster, that I am close to being a barren old maid and lest I snag someone suitable to tie the knot with the soonest possible time, I am bound to spend the rest of my life alone and miserable. For heaven’s sakes, anyone can be miserable at any stage of his or her life—married or not! Happiness is a state of mind, or a state of being. What is more, everything has its own time! Why,why, should I worry?
You see, I am usually not affected by such things as age and social conventions, or at least not yet. I have my own visions of my future and am happy the way things are today. I never want age to be a limiting factor to the things I do. More importantly, I don’t want my present happiness to be spoiled by such unreasonable worries about the future. Even in my simple wisdom, I know that there are things I cannot control. Sure, I am not one hundred percent contented with my life and there are things which could make me happier, but I feel so, so blessed already that to complain for more I cannot afford to do. That I am with my family; that ma, pa and bro are healthy; that I have lots of genuine friends who are there for me; that I am earning enough to satisfy my simple whims; that I am working for my dreams—aren’t these sufficient blessings already? The reason why I am suddenly carping is that I don’t like it when other people dictate how I should live my life according to how they lived theirs and then judge me based on their boxed ideas. Life, after all, has no formulas. To each his/her own.
The second reason why I am distracted is the recent unexpected encounters I had with some “folks”, which left me drained and confused. If only I could sleep for twelve hours and wake up as if nothing has happened. Yup, I did try to sleep for twelve hours in vain attempt to erase the bitter taste in my mouth, but the disconcerting memories still haunt me by the time I wake up. I tried to pray, but perhaps prayers sometimes go unanswered for some time. They say that God has His own time. Or maybe I did not pray hard enough. Then I resorted to my usual remedy—my favorite “therapy”: coffee with my ever dependable and funny friends. But I don’t know; I still feel edgy until now. Even the latter, I guess, does not have its usual potent healing effect. Now, in another vain attempt, I am trying to immerse myself in a mountain of work, hoping that the grueling demands of deadlines, lack of sleep and dare I say, passion for my craft, would eventually drown out the clamors inside me. Finally, I comfort myself by saying that other people have heavier, more tangible burdens, while I only have internal struggles which, according to one friend, are “mga inembentong dramas”. I know it’s not good to find comfort in other people’s misery, but at least it forces me to be less absorbed in my woes and be grateful for the blessings instead.
Hayy…life could be complicated at times. Adulthood is no walk in the park–cliché, I know, but I can’t help saying it nonetheless. Add this to the effects of hormones and horoscopes, I guess, he he. Whatever! Maybe I’ll try to work for twelve hours straight so I’ll be so tired to think of anything else but sleep and sweet dreams 
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